In order not to repeat history, it is not enough to know it,we must know ourselves, and our complicity. —Schilling
Some days you have to take what you canget, and that day my mother was too sickto find yet one more crowded pavement caféand the worst of it was, sitting there inmy habit, I had to see it all unfold: the tiredcouple with their small child, the empty tableand the promise of refreshment, and thenthe waiter descending in a blaze of jeers,scathing looks and torrid gestures, and watchthe husband and wife gather their dignityand leave, unwelcome only for the offenseof resembling too much the enemy du jourand I had nowhere to go to, nowhere tohide my shame, no means of protest whenthe waiter returned and served us sweetly,set the coffee before me, and the only wayI could ask is a veil any better than a chador?was to say, simply, Dankeschön
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